


Feed the Rain

by Wei (wei_jiangling)



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Community: ff_exchange, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-23
Updated: 2010-05-23
Packaged: 2017-10-09 16:10:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wei_jiangling/pseuds/Wei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rufus is getting back on his feet after the Geostigma has been cured, but he needs to deal with a particular distraction first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feed the Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NaliaRenegade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaliaRenegade/gifts).



> Prompt: Any or all of the Turks/Rufus (It would be nice to have something set in Shinra Inc. or Healin Lodge. If it's in Healin Lodge it would be cool to have it be after Rufus gets healed in AC) Rufus can't seem to get the Turks out of his head and there is only one thing he wants. How far is he willing to go to get it?
> 
> Further inspiration: [Poets of the Fall - Carnival of Rust](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKk1u5RMTn4) [Adam Lambert - For Your Entertainment](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f9wAFmfhpmU) The former makes me wibble, the latter makes me laugh. The title is a reference to Carnival of Rust.
> 
> Congratulations, Nalia, you have inspired the longest thing I've written that wasn't multiple chapters.

Geostigma had given Rufus a profound appreciation for the act of organizing his room. He had always kept things neat, of course. He couldn't stand his space being cluttered. But it was being sick and stuck in a wheelchair half the time that had instilled a respect for the act itself.

No one forced him to sit in a wheelchair when he was cleaning his room.

He heard the door to his room open, and identified the footsteps that followed before he turned to look at the Turk who now stood just inside.

"Tseng." The other man gave him a slightly odd look; Rufus could only assume it was some form of concern for the fact that the President and the wheelchair were not presently in the same part of the room. He wisely made no remark on the subject, however.

"I wanted to talk to you about--" His voice cut off abruptly. "Sir?!"

Rufus barely heard the Turk's words as the Geostigma flared and his muscles gave out. The scene around him faded, overwhelmed by he intense burning pain of every black mark that marred his body. He wasn't sure how long the attack lasted. Seconds. Minutes, at most, he was sure. It felt like decades.

When the world began to come back into focus, he realized that there were arms around him, gently but solidly holding him up when he'd expected to be a heap on the floor. He leaned into the embrace, taking some comfort in the security of having someone supporting him, and enjoying the warmth of the contact more than he would choose to admit. He almost wished he had been aware enough of his surroundings just to have seen Tseng cover the length of the room quickly enough to catch him before he hit the floor. He could guess that it had been impressive.

A moment passed for Rufus to regain his bearings enough to extract himself from Tseng's arms and compose himself enough to pretend he had not just been clinging to the other man. Still feeling shaky, he sat at the edge of the bed, and muttered,

"You wanted to see me about something?" Tseng seemed to ponder it for a second, then responded lightly,

"It can wait."

"Mm." Normally, Rufus might have been more insistent that the Turk tell him whatever it was he was going to tell him, but at that moment, he was too shaken from the attack to quite care.

"Can I get you anything?"

"How about a functional set of limbs?" Rufus grumbled, irritated. He was tired of not being able to trust his own body. Tseng peered back at him with practiced patience.

"I believe the doctors are working on that."

"Mm," Rufus said again, directing his gaze to a randomly selected spot on the floor. Then, after a pause, he almost unthinkingly muttered, "As if it wasn't enough that my company is in ruins..." This... this disease, this place, this situation, had never been what he imagined for himself. Rufus had been raised to have the world bow before him, not be unaware of his existence as he collapsed in his room. But somehow it seemed that the latter had become the far truer statement.

"It can be rebuilt," the Turk offered helpfully. And maybe on a different day, Rufus would agree with him. He'd even spoken about it himself on occasion. But at this moment, in this place that was little more than a glorified hospital, in the aftermath of searing, debilitating pain that wouldn't seem to leave him alone, he couldn't muster the shred of optimism needed for that. Somehow, grand plans felt like little more than fantastic flights of make-believe, these days. His eyes snapped back to meet the Turk's.

"How?" he retorted. "With most of the world assuming I've died? With a staff dwindled down to a handful of people? With me in a goddamned wheelchair?!" It wasn't often that Rufus raised his voice, and even now he quickly forced himself back from it, averting his gaze yet again. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet.

"I don't delude myself, Tseng; a man without power is nothing." Which raised the question of why the Turk bothered to stay with him in the first place, but he very quickly quashed that train of thought. Tseng gave a vague nod that seemed more acknowledgement than agreement, a slight frown on his lips. A moment passed in silence as neither felt the need to continue that line of conversation.

"Will you be alright?" The words somehow caught Rufus by surprise, and he looked up, eyes wide before they narrowed again.

"I'm fine, Tseng," he snapped, entirely too frustrated to sound as if he genuinely meant the words. But the Turk thankfully chose not to press the issue.

"I'll take my leave, then," he replied delicately. As Tseng got to the door, he paused and looked back long enough to make one final comment.

"A man without power is a man."

Rufus kept his expression to the mildest look of surprise, followed by a glance away, and a disgruntled, "hm." He didn't dare ask what that comment was supposed to mean, and, as Tseng proceeded to quietly disappear from the room, he apparently hadn't felt the need to elaborate.

\---

Days, months, passed with no end in sight save for possibly the inevitable. Hope dwindled as the disease grew worse and the doctors' understanding of it grew no better. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that the appearance of the Remnants was in some ways welcome; at least it gave Rufus and the Turks something to do other than sit and wait. And then something miraculous happened; rain fell, and suddenly the Geostigma was gone without a trace.

In retrospect, there were ways in which the Geostigma been harder on Tseng than it had on Rufus. The Turk would never claim that, because he had seen what it had put Rufus though. What it had done to him. But sometimes Tseng had to wonder if, even despite the pain and the frustration, watching it hadn't been worse. The Turk could think of very few things more distressing that seeing Rufus Shinra beaten down, reduced to a bitter, hollow image of what he once had been.

The President had always had an indomitable spirit; he'd been raised to rule the world and he took on that role without hesitation. Tseng had had immense respect for that spirit. Perhaps, if he was being honest with himself, it was something more than simple respect, but if so then that only made it all the harder to watch the man slowly rot away, inside and out.

It had only been a few days since his almost inexplicable recovery, but in that time it seemed as if the President had come alive again. He was still frustrated with the situation, but now it was because he wanted to be back out in the world and doing things and the doctors wouldn't let him go without an extensive round of testing to make sure he was actually well.

Tseng couldn't blame them for being confused; after all, it wasn't every day that an epidemic was suddenly, and apparently universally, cured. And as much as Rufus was tired of the testing, Tseng was glad for the attention to detail. If they were to somehow miss something important... He promptly cut off that train of thought with a shake of his head. The President was fine, now. And despite the continued poking and prodding of doctors, he seemed far more alive than he had been in what seemed like an endlessly long time.

When he found Rufus in his room, the blonde was sitting at the edge of his bed, folding clothes to pack into a suitcase. The corner of Tseng's lips quirked up just slightly; it seemed the President would appreciate the news Tseng was bringing him.

At the sound of someone entering the room, Rufus glanced up long enough to identify the visitor before returning his focus to his packing.

"Close the door behind you." Tseng did, then took a few steps into the room.

"The doctors have decided you're well enough that they can let you go."

"About time," came the muttered response as a shirt landed in the suitcase. Tseng ignored the comment and continued on.

"There are more details to deal with, of course, but I can handle most of them in the morning."

Rufus simply nodded, and tossed a neatly arranged pair of socks onto the pile. A moment of silence passed as Tseng simply watched him, before asking,

"What will you do now?" Rufus paused, and seemed to ponder something for a moment before responding.

"Get out of here, of course. We'll set up a base in Junon." He moved the last of the clothing he'd been messing with into the suitcase and shut it, then gave Tseng a serious, almost frustrated, look. "I'd rather not think about this right now." The Turk peered back at him curiously, but didn't question it. It was late, and there would still be more to do before they would be able to move out of here, anyway. It would be easy enough to discuss it later.

"Should I leave you alone?" Rufus seemed to consider something for a second before replying.

"No, stay." He stood, closing the distance between himself and Tseng. The Turk tensed ever so slightly, a trained response after a long time of dealing with the possibility that the President might suddenly collapse; it would take him a while to learn that such an occurrence wasn't an immediate danger anymore.

It also took him a moment to process the fact that Rufus was now standing very close to him, and looking at him with an expression he couldn't precisely identify. Tseng blinked.

"Did you have something to say?" Rufus' gaze shifted off to the side.

"No, not really. I..." his voice trailed off into a frustrated noise as he failed to find words he liked. And lieu of whatever he might have been trying to say, he reached a hand behind the Turk's neck and pulled him into a kiss.

Tseng should have been confused. In fact, he _was_ confused, quite thoroughly. But at the brush of Rufus' lips, something long hidden sparked in him and he found himself leaning in closer, accepting the contact gladly, kissing back with a hunger he wouldn't have otherwise admitted. Yes, it had indeed been more than simple respect that fueled his admiration for the President; he had know that all along, but he never would have said anything, or even hoped for... this. But it only took a moment for the rational part of his mind to step in and give him pause. It was too strange, too sudden to be... real. Wasn't it? Gently but firmly, he pushed Rufus away from him, peering at him curiously.

"Sir...?" It was the most he could say for the moment, hoping the unspoken question would prompt some sort of an explanation.

"Yes?" Rufus peered back at him, expression some combination of lust and annoyance. No such luck. Perhaps a more direct question was in order.

"What is this?" The question was met with a raised eyebrow.

"What do you think?"

"I think you kissed me." Rufus stifled a frustrated growl at the matter-of-fact response, then put and hand on the Turk's shoulder, and moved to murmur in his ear.

"Stay tonight." It was a command, but one spoken as almost a purr. The closeness, the soft, rumbling voice in his ear, threatened to melt him again. Tseng closed his eyes, avoiding betraying any emotion that might appear in them, as he forced himself to think.

What Rufus was asking was clear enough, but that had hardly answered the question. Did he want _him_, or did he simply want _someone_? The latter was a far less appealing prospect, and, Tseng assumed, the more likely. It wasn't a difficult assumption to make that a sudden recovery from many months of a debilitating disease might have had an effect on him.

In many ways, Tseng was very good at being simply a tool, there to do whatever Rufus needed him to, and most of the time he didn't mind it. This, however, was different. He had no intention of being the momentary object of something Rufus only thought he wanted. He resisted the urge to sigh.

Bringing it up would do no good, he was sure. Right now, he doubted that Rufus would know the difference. And beside that, once the President had his mind set on something, rationality tended to fall on deaf ears. His eyes came open again, and he fixed the President with a look that spoke purely of practicality. He could try.

"Doesn't this seem rather...sudden?" Rufus' lips twitched into an odd sort of displeased expression; it was the kind that meant the President wasn't saying something, though Tseng wouldn't have a clue of guessing what. It was a moment before he spoke.

"You seemed perfectly willing a moment ago." That wasn't it, but he let whatever the hidden thought might have been slide. He doubted Rufus would tell him, anyway.

"Even so..." Tseng frowned slightly, and shook his head. The statement rang true, of course; he was sure he had seemed, as the President had put it, perfectly willing. Truth be told, he _was_, but under the circumstances... He had two choices: get out, now, or give in. The former was... better, considering. "I should go." He gently removed Rufus' hand from his shoulder and turned to leave, but was stopped by a hand on his wrist. He could have shaken that grip away, and left regardless, but instead he froze, waiting for the President's next move.

"What if it's an order?" He supposed that should have been predictable. Tseng replied in a voice that was soft, calm, and flat, without turning to look back at him.

"Then I would have no choice." His tone was, perhaps, a little cold. But not angry, nor offended. If anything, he was disappointed, and frustrated that that still didn't answer the question. Rufus moved closer, releasing his grip on Tseng's wrist in favor of resting it on the Turk's waist, and planted a soft, quick kiss on the other man's neck.

"Do you plan to disobey an order, Tseng?" The Turk closed his eyes again. Hadn't he already answered that? But he didn't want to answer simply on instinct, even if that's what the President was counting on. He knew he wouldn't get away with hesitating too long, but he saw no harm in taking a brief moment to weigh his response. The truth was, he wasn't being asked to do anything he didn't want. He couldn't help but be disappointed by the way he'd been asked it, but surely that was partially his fault for resisting. What else was one to expect from Rufus Shinra?

"No." His eyes flicked open again, and he turned to face Rufus, hoping the twinge of sadness that likely appeared in his expression wasn't too noticeable. He reached up with one hand to brush finger's over the President's cheek, comforted, mildly, by the fact that the Rufus' response to his answer was clear relief. Rufus leaned into Tseng's fingers almost unconsciously, and the Turk gave him a questioning look. "What would you have me do?" There was a brief pause, as Rufus seemed to consider words, as if either he didn't know what he wanted to say, or didn't want to say it. Tseng couldn't be sure which.

"Touch me," he decided, breathy voice full of want, peering at Tseng through half-lidded eyes. The Turk did as he was told. One arm wrapped around Rufus' waist, pulling him close, while the other moved to work at the buttons of his shirt, which, thankfully, was the only shirt the President seemed to be wearing at the moment, save for the jacket over it.

Rufus wrapped an arm around the back of his head, and tugged him into another hungry, pleading kiss. This time, the Turk made no effort to resist; he gave in to the clashing of tongues, his hands finding skin as he felt his tie being tugged away from his throat. By the time the kiss was broken, the jackets and shirts of both men had been abandoned to a heap on the floor.

Tseng put his hands on Rufus' now bare shoulders and pushed him back toward the bed until he fell over onto it, following shortly after. Then, on a devilish whim, grabbed his wrists and pushed them down into the bed.

"What are you--?" Rufus sputtered, and glared at Tseng. Or at least, the Turk assumed it was intended to be a glare. Rufus' expression was clearly offended, but also looked like someone had just flipped a switch; his eyes were smoldering with desire. The Turk's lips twitched into a wicked little smirk. Apparently, the President liked not being in control sometimes. Who would have guessed?

Rufus struggled against the grip, but didn't have a chance of wriggling out of the Tseng's grasp, especially when he didn't mean it. It wasn't long before he stopped trying and decided to fall back on words.

"Let go." Tseng simply shook his head, and leaned in to press his lips against Rufus' neck.

"When I feel like it."

"_Tseng_." It was said with a warning tone, and the Turk backed away enough to fix him with an incredulous look.

"Why should I when you're enjoying it?" Rufus' eyes widened, and he briefly opened his mouth as if to say something, then promptly shut it again and shifted his gaze off to the side. The smirk returned to Tseng's lips.

"Good boy," he couldn't resist saying, before he went back to trailing nips and kisses along the other man's collar bone. The comment got another offended look, but if the President had planned to say anything, it was lost in a gasp as Tseng's tongue found his nipple.

The Turk had long since forgotten his fear that this might have been a case where simply anyone would do. Perhaps it was simply lust and frustration, or perhaps there was something more, but either way, it was hardly the foremost thing in his mind, now. Regardless of the President's intentions, it was Tseng who had the man sprawled out shirtless under him, and that was an utterly glorious sight if he'd ever seen one. He trailed licks, kisses, and bites over Rufus' neck and chest until the other man was squirming, trying to grind his hips up against Tseng.

"More," he moaned out, and Tseng let go of one Rufus' hands so he would be able to work on ridding the other man of his pants, but paused as his hand reached the belt buckle and looked at Rufus with an evil sort of smile.

"Say please."

"What?" That had to be one of the most amusing looks Tseng had ever seen on Rufus' face; he looked downright shocked. The Turk took the opportunity to run his finger just along the rim of Rufus' pants.

"You heard me." The President stared at him for a moment, seeming determined not to give in, though his resolution obviously failed as Tseng's hand gently brushed over the fabric covering his crotch, feeling tell-tale twitches from where he was already hard underneath. Then suddenly he seemed to remember he had a hand free now, and moved as if to undo the buckle himself. Tseng grabbed his hand and pinned it down again. He shook his head admonishingly.

"_Tseng_." That same warning tone again. The Turk ignored it, and went back to flicking his tongue over Rufus' nipple. The President squirmed, alternately trying to get his hands free or to press his crotch against Tseng, but the Turk was letting him do neither; his grip was tight, and his body remained just slightly out of reach.

"Tseng! For the love of--"

"Say it," he interrupted, his voice a commanding murmur. He trailed his lips lower, kissing at Rufus' stomach, still keeping just enough space between them to drive the other man crazy.

"Nnnng." Down to his bellybutton, almost to the rim of his pants... "Please!" Never had that word sounded quite so much like a curse. Tseng paused, but didn't move just yet. Rufus looked at him with some combination of annoyance, desperation, and embarrassment. "Alright? I said it. Just, please, Tseng..." It was the latter one that caught his attention; it was so much more genuine that Tseng wondered if Rufus if even knew he'd said it. It was absolutely delicious to hear. He regarded the President with a small smile.

"Mm, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Rufus replied by fixing him with a look that clearly said _you sure as hell better make that worth it_, and the smile on the Turk's lips turned into a satisfied smirk. He let go of Rufus' wrists in favor of finally undoing the belt and tugging off the President's pants and boxers, leaving them heaped on the floor like the rest of the discarded clothes. He imagined Rufus would be less than pleased about the wrinkled fabric in the morning, but at the moment he was obviously too involved to care. Once the clothes were gone, the Turk paused a moment, simply looking at the President, laying on the bed, his now-healthy body completely naked, flexing his wrists now that they were free again. He was a breathtakingly beautiful man, now that Tseng was seeing him like this.

"What?" Apparently that pause had been long enough to catch Rufus' attention. Tseng's lips quirked up in amusement.

"Admiring the view."

"Stop it and do something." The Turk couldn't help but chuckle quietly. That was the President: always giving orders, even now. Though he didn't see the point in arguing with that one. "What's funny--nnn." Rufus' question was lost in a moan as Tseng's lips closed around his cock. The Turk decided it wouldn't matter that he didn't plan on answering; after all, his mouth was otherwise occupied. Rufus' hands tangled into his hair, providing a guide to the rhythm. Tseng allowed him that much control for now, knowing that it was an illusion. The President reacted to the motions of Tseng's lips and tongue with any number of delicious twitches and moans; the guiding motion of his hands was no more conscious than the rest of it, and only served to encourage Tseng further. His own hands roamed over Rufus' stomach, thighs, and ass, until finally he pressed a finger lightly against his entrance, eliciting a startled gasp.

Rufus seemed surprised, almost offended, by the touch, and Tseng raised an eyebrow at him, yet again amused. He lifted his head to look at the other man, but his fingertip, if anything, pressed a little harder.

"This _is_ what you wanted, isn't it?" The question was more rhetorical than genuine--it was what _he_ wanted, and he didn't intend to stop unless Rufus truly put up a fight--but when Rufus simply averted an embarrassed gaze without saying a word, Tseng knew the other man's answer even though it hadn't been voiced. "That's what I thought." The President continued to avoid Tseng's eyes as he quietly muttered,

"Bottom nightstand drawer." The Turk stared at him blankly for a moment before he figured out what that was supposed to mean, and took a moment to wriggle out of his remaining clothing before rummaging through the drawer to find a small bottle.

\---

Rufus watched the Turk out of the corner of his eye as he fumbled through the drawer, swallowing the small lump of nervousness in his throat. Truth be told, he'd been thinking about this encounter longer than he'd let on--maybe the fact that there was a bottle of lube in his drawer was proof enough of that--but somehow it had ended up going differently than he'd planned. Better, maybe. He was quickly discovering that there was some thrill in letting Tseng take charge.

But that didn't mean it wasn't unfamiliar territory.

The sight of the Turk slathering his fingers with the liquid was accompanied by a burst of very excited butterflies in his stomach. He bit back a yelp as one of those fingers slipped inside him, then a second one. His body unconsciously tensed at the unfamiliar contact. The fingers ceased their motion.

"Relax." Tseng's voice was soft but commanding, and Rufus found himself wanting to obey the word if for no other reason than the way it was said. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breath, willing the tension out of his muscles. Tseng's fingers began to move again, pushing apart, stretching. He opened his eyes again, distracting himself from the strange sensations by, as the Turk had put it earlier, admiring the view. Tseng hovered over him, long hair draping down over muscled shoulders, watching the President with a satisfied hint of a smile. He was an amazingly beautiful man, now that Rufus was seeing him like this.

The Turk removed his fingers and for a split second Rufus felt an inexplicably profound sense of loss, though it didn't last long. The fingers were suddenly replaced by Tseng's cock, forcing him wide open, and this time he did yelp. His muscles clenched again in response to the intrusion. The Turk grunted in reply.

"What did I just tell you?"

_Relax,_ Rufus reminded himself, _breathe_. It was harder this time, and easier. The simple fact that Tseng was _in_ him was almost too much to take, but it was that same fact that compelled him. Yet again, he forced his muscles to loosen. And the second he did, Tseng pulled back out and thrust into him again, hard.

"Ah!" he cried out, and his hand impulsively clenched at the bedsheets. Tseng pushed into him again. The sensation was so intense it immediately sent him into a spiral of conflicting thoughts. It hurt; it felt good; he wanted it to stop; he wanted _more_. Almost on instinct, he reached down to grab hold of his now thoroughly straining cock, only to have that hand snatched and pinned into the bed. Again.

"Tseng!" His tone was undoubtedly pleading, but he was too far gone to even care. The Turk fixed him with a look Rufus might have described as intimidating.

"If anyone here is going to be doing that, it will be me," Tseng informed him. For a moment, Rufus stared back at him. He did have another hand free, but he was certain that Tseng wasn't going to let him do anything with that one, either. He almost started to protest, but he knew he wasn't going to win, and perhaps some part of him acknowledged that he didn't want to.

So he did the only thing left to do; he let go, and let himself be overtaken by the sensations. He focused solely on the feeling of Tseng pounding into him, again and again. He moaned in obvious pleasure as Tseng let go of his wrist and wrapped that hand around his cock instead, stroking in rhythm. His hands found themselves perfectly content to wrinkle the sheets.

Everything faded from his consciousness other than the feelings of Tseng in him, and touching him, the sheets against his skin, the sight of Tseng above him, the sound of Tseng's grunts and moans mixing with his own. The sensations only got more potent the longer they went on, until they finally hit a peak and Rufus cried out as he came, warm liquid spilling over his stomach. It was a few more strokes before the Turk came as well, inside of him. A moment passed while both caught their breath, then Rufus watched, dazed, as Tseng licked first his hand and then Rufus' stomach clean of cum. Then the Turk found a place on the bed, tugging the sheets over him. It wasn't until he spoke that Rufus started coming back to his senses.

"You might want to consider getting under the covers if you plan on falling asleep." Rufus blinked blearily at the Turk, who was giving him quite a serious look. The President simply nodded and took the suggestion, crawling under the covers and landing comfortably with his head on Tseng's shoulder. It wasn't long before he fell asleep.

\---

Tseng laid awake for a while, stroking fingers lightly over the shoulders of the sleeping President, a satisfied smile on his lips. Despite his earlier trepidation, he couldn't bring himself to regret this evening. He had never thought he would get to see Rufus let go like that. Maybe he never would again.

He was grateful that from the beginning Rufus had asked him to spend the night. Present scene aside, he doubted that the President was one to linger.

Perhaps this really was a one-time occurrence. brought on by simple sexual frustration. Perhaps it wasn't, but in the morning Rufus would be angry about Tseng having taken advantage of it. Or perhaps he would decide he wanted it to happen again. Either way, Tseng would have this to think back on. This evening when Rufus had trusted him enough to let him take control, and then to fall asleep curled up in his arms.

"You didn't have to make it an order, you know," he whispered, brushing fingers through Rufus' hair. The President, still sound asleep, wrapped his arm around the Turk more tightly.

The last thing Tseng thought before he fell asleep as well was that he'd never seen quite so peaceful a look on Rufus' face.

\---

Rufus rolled over in bed, burying his face in a pillow in an attempt to evade the morning light. It was a futile attempt; the fringes of consciousness were already tugging at him, waking him from probably the best night of sleep he'd had in years... but also alerting him that something wasn't quite right. Mental lightbulb clicking on, he sat up abruptly, disturbing nothing but the sheets of the otherwise empty bed. Tseng was gone.

For a moment, he thought he might have dreamed the entire thing, but a telling soreness and a set of all too tangible memories were enough to prove him wrong. He traced a hand over the sheets where the Turk had slept, his lips quirked into a sad sort of smile. It wasn't as if Rufus was the type to waste much time snuggling, but he couldn't help but be a little disappointed to find the man _missing_. Had he been so anxious to leave?

It was at that moment that Rufus remembered that at one point he had been, the night before.

At the time, he could have pointed out that this desire was far from "sudden." He could have mentioned that he'd secretly been lusting after Tseng for longer than the Turk could have guessed. He could have admitted that there was more going on than simply the frustration of having been ill for so long. That since Tseng had caught him that day, it had been the phantom thought of those same arms that had held him through many a night otherwise filled with feverish nightmares, or that it had taken every ounce of his self-control to stay calm when Kadaj had dropped a blood-spattered ID card on the floor. That he never seemed to get the Turk out of his mind, and that it seemed to him like he'd been waiting forever for that opportunity, whether it appeared to come out of the blue or not. That being well again had only served to make that need more urgent.

But instead, he'd fallen back on a response than was far more natural to him, and far less of a liability. Also one that, frustratingly, left him with no gauge of why Tseng had decided to indulge him. As if in reply, his thoughts turned to memories of the other man peering at him with lust-filled eyes, or the happy little smirk that had appeared on his lips. If nothing else, the Turk had clearly been enjoying himself. But... _Do you plan to disobey an order, Tseng?_ Surely it wasn't _solely_ for that reason, was it?

Rufus avoided admitting to himself exactly how much it might rip him apart if it had been by deciding he really needed coffee and rolling out of bed.

He paused as he noticed that the suit he'd been wearing the day before was folded neatly and set on the seat of a chair--a far cry from strewn about the floor the way he'd remembered. Tseng must have done that when he woke up. That observation noted, he grabbed his robe and wrapped it around him, then walked to the small counter in the room to find coffee already brewed in the coffee maker. Tseng must have done that, too. He shook his head and poured a cup of coffee, fixing the wall next to him with a blank look as he drank it.

The night before, he'd been asked what he was going to do next. He'd waved away the question because he was distracted, but truth be told, the fact that Tseng happened to be standing in his bedroom with the door closed hadn't been the only reason he hadn't wanted to think about it. Yes, he had handled that situation with the remnants, but in general, in the long term, he'd spent the past several months assuming he was going to die. Now his life was sitting in front of him again, and he was supposed to figure out what to do with it. Not that he had any complaints about that fact, but it was a bit daunting, to say the least. It had been nice, for once, to not need to think. To let someone else worry about being in control for a little while. Funny, that he hadn't known that was what he'd needed until it was happening. But somehow between that and the simple fact of being rid of that particular distraction, he felt like maybe he was ready to deal with the world again.

Of course, the coffee helped, too.

He set the empty cup on the counter, and spent the next several minutes dressing himself in actual clothes, then walked out of his room only to practically run into Tseng. He stopped abruptly, casting his gaze away from the Turk. The last thing he wanted to do was something stupid, like blush. Thankfully, the wall was far less likely to inspire that reaction.

"You're awake," the Turk observed, then added as an afterthought, "I assume you found the coffee." Rufus nodded.

"Yes, I did." Out of the corner of his eye, Rufus saw the Turk nod, then move to rifle through some papers sitting at a nearby table. A moment passed in what Rufus perceived to be awkward silence.

"You left early this morning," he finally commented, and despite all efforts to keep his tone neutral, it came out sounding mildly accusatory. Tseng responded without looking up from the stack of papers.

"Arranging the details of your official release from care here, if you recall." A pause, and a mildly curious look from the Turk. "I hardly saw fit to wake you."

Rufus peered at him, trying his best to look as if he had remembered what Tseng would be doing early that morning all along, and that he hadn't been surprised when said activities had not been simply continuing to sleep in the President's room. If the Turk noticed anything was off in Rufus' expression, he wisely didn't comment.

"Hn." He could hardly blame him for leaving, having remembered that. The paperwork was little more than a triviality, but it needed to be done nonetheless, and the sooner the better. Rufus was more than ready to take his leave of this place. Tseng replied by handing him a few of the papers he'd been messing with.

"These ones require your signature." Rufus took them with a nod, then checked his pocket for a pen only to remember he hadn't bothered to put one in it. As if on cue, Tseng handed him one.

"Thank you," he replied flatly, quickly turning his attention back to the papers, adding his signatures to the appropriate places. When he was done. he turned his gaze back to Tseng, who peered back at him as if nothing at all were different from the morning before.

And after a few seconds, he looked away again, fighting off a sickening feeling in his stomach. _Then I would have no choice._ Had it not been an order, what would have happened? He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"There, these are done." He handed the papers back to the Turk without looking at him again. Tseng took them and calmly stacked them with the others again.

"I'll go turn these in, then?" Rufus simply nodded, and Tseng started to walk away.

"Tseng." The Turk turned back to him with a questioning look that Rufus didn't meet. He still didn't quite want to bring up the things that were weighing on his mind, but he hadn't wanted to let Tseng walk off, either. "Last night," he began hesitantly, "if..." His voice trailed off. He wasn't even sure of what he wanted to say. He shouldn't have stopped him in the first place.

Alright, enough of this floundering around. His next words came out in a tone that made him sound far more sure of himself.

"Nevermind, you can go." Tseng simply looked at him for a long moment, as if he thought Rufus might say something else, then simply nodded.

"I... see." Before he turned to walk off again, he made a comment that mirrored one he had said once before, when Rufus was still sick.

"A man with power is still a man." A different statement, though Rufus wasn't any closer to figuring out what was meant by it, and still didn't feel like asking. He fully expected the Turk to leave it at that cryptic statement, but apparently this time it wasn't the last of what he had to say. Turning his head, but not looking back, he added, "Don't make it an order next time," before walking off down the hall.

Rufus blinked bewildered at the words, and watched Tseng disappear down the hallway and into another room before the smallest hint of a smile found its way to his lips.


End file.
